


Dream a Little Dream of Her

by hunteriheroici (spacebarista)



Series: Dream A Way Out [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hell, Implied Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebarista/pseuds/hunteriheroici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out souls can dream in Hell. Dean dreams of hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream a Little Dream of Her

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my tumblr buddies. Based off a post I made about Dean dreaming about Lisa in Hell. First in a series about dreaming and Lisa.

If you’d asked Dean if souls in Hell could dream before he ended up there, he’d have said no.

_Boy_ , was he wrong.

He dreamt of Sam, mostly. Back on the road, them as kids, sometimes even of a wedding. Sam and Jess. Getting their happily ever after. Dying in his arms in a ghost town.

And woke up to blood and pain and fear.

He dreamt of his dad. Running him through drills, training him to shoot, giving him the Impala, ruffling his hair. Drinking. Shouting. Landing a punch. Leaving. 

And woke up to fire and flaying and mutilation.

He dreamt of Bobby. Playing catch, movie nights with him and Sam, birthday parties, trying homemade meatloaf. Working on cars, making a living. 

And woke up to torture and evisceration and breaking.

He dreamt of his mother. Singing, playing, making soup, watching TV, tucking him in, kissing his hair. Burning. 

And woke up to burning himself.

And sometimes.

_Sometimes._

He dreamt of _her_.

_Lisa._

It was dreams like the one he had with the African Dream Root. The ones he didn’t _know_ he wanted until he had seen her again.

Picnics, mornings in bed, dinners, fairs, walks in the park, curling up on the couch, cooking together, _nights_ in bed. Ben featured in the tamer ones, like the fairs and the parks. He treated him like a son. The only son he would have ever wanted.

But it was the dreams with Lisa he craved, when his broken, weary soul drifted. 

He could feel her touch. Gentle in places that were used to brutality. He could see her smile. Kind, when he was used to wickedness. He could smell her. Citrus and vanilla, far from the sulfuric smell of the fires. And her kiss... _God_ , her _kiss_. He felt her lips on every one of his scars. Even the ones wrought in Hellfire. Reviving him. Healing him. _Loving him_. 

Nothing bad ever happened in his dreams with Lisa. _Nothing_. They were his only safe haven.

Until Alistair shook him awake. Stabbed him awake. Burned him awake. _Hurt him awake_.

And he would go through the same thing. Day after day. Week after week. _Month_ after _month_. 

Waiting for the pain to _stop_ so he could sleep and see _Lisa_.

It could have been a trick.

Something Alistair did to toy with him even more.

But he didn’t care.

The dreams were _all_ he had.

He was scared of breaking.

Torturing.

Because if he crossed that boundary.

If he _sliced_ that soul.

The dreams may _stop_.

And he wouldn’t make it without the _hope_ his dreams of her brought.

Without _her_.

He was already in Hell. Without Sam.

Without _Lisa_ , too?

He was _gone_.


End file.
